Nevren
by SwinVift
Summary: A cold, deathly voice wakes him. The middle of a forest. "Who am I?" His skin is peeling, bone showing in places. He remembers nothing. Now he is on a mission to find himself, as well as his past. He will not be alone.
1. Wake up

I do not own World of Warcraft. I do own the original characters in this story.

-.-

_"Hey, (slurred name,) wake up! We have to leave! WAKE UP, ( slurred name!)" He opened his eyes drearily; flames danced into his clouded vision, screams tore into his incomprehensive ears. A beautiful woman kneeled next to him, shaking him awake. Tears streamed down her teardrop shaped face. Ash and soot took residence in her golden hair, and her simple white dress looked as if it were burned; her left sleeve was completely missing, and her arm was covered in red blisters._

_"What's going on?" He asked lethargically._

_"They found us! They're attacking, I think someone here is a-" Her mouth hung open, but she spoke no more. Something peculiar poked through her chest…_

_**"Wake up…"**_

He woke up with a start, eyes darting all around him. He was in a small clearing in a forest; the trees around him were thicker around than he was. He heard a stream trickling along nearby, as well as owls hooting far above. He looked up; stars poked through the few openings in the leaves.

"Where am I?..." He glanced around and saw an undecorated staff resting against a tree, a small but thick book at its end. He felt as if he had just had a horrible dream, but he could not recall it. "Come on… Remember! What was that dream?" He ran his hands through his hair… But he had no hair?

"I can't remember anything!" His eyes opened momentarily in shock. "Not even my own name!" He looked around him for answers, and received none. "What is this?" he shouted; the owls above fluttered away. He cleared his thoughts; the last thing he could remember… Was a deep voice telling him to wake up.

"Who was that voice, anyway?" He asked himself. "No use waiting around here to find out…" He stood up and walked as softly as he could to the staff leaning on the tree. As he reached out to grab it, he realized his hand was gray. His fingers were nothing more than bones reaching out from underneath the decaying skin. He stared at his arm for a long while. His hand was just reaching out from behind an old, tattered brown robe whose sleeves were longer than his arms. He pulled the sleeves back; his elbow was laid open with rot, showing sinew. Patches of skin were, and had, fallen off at random all over him. "What… Is this…?"

He felt as if there were memories dangling just out of his reach. "What am I?" He could see that the small beams of moonlight had disappeared. Something inside him, perhaps instinct, or experience, told him that sitting here thinking would do nothing for him. He started to walk towards the sound of the stream when he realized that he had left that book lying on the floor. He jogged back and picked it up, thinking it, perhaps, had something from the past.

As he reached the stream, he opened it to read, and it seemed second nature to hold it in perfect balance in his left hand, using his staff to make sure he didn't trip on something as he buried his face in the text. But, as he opened it, he saw runes and symbols that he did not recognize. At the same time, it seemed it didn't matter, as he turned quickly to a well-worn page and began to read it over and over.

What it meant, he had no idea. But it felt as if these words were his being. As if the lines were his core, the center that he based everything upon. In these lines, he could translate two words, but they made no sense. The runes were Nevren Agol.

He looked up and realized he had been traveling down-stream along the river long enough for the sun to be rising above the tips of the trees. He thought to himself, ((something about these words… It's as if I know them from a past life. What have I forgotten?)) His staff splashed into a small puddle filled with clear water. He looked at his reflection; he was bald, but that was the last thing he noticed. His skin was a decrepit gray, and his eyes glowed orange. But his face, at least, seemed to be spared from the rot that had spread across the rest of his body; it was still whole. He saw a small hood reaching up from the back of his robe. He pulled it up; he didn't know what he was, but it was obvious it wasn't normal.


	2. A piece of the puzzle

I do not own World of Warcraft. I do own the original characters in this story.

-.-

A small town was visible in the distance. The rays of the sun had just appeared, the moon still lingering on the horizon. It suited the gentle village sitting in the distance, nestled in the mountains. It seemed very simple. He could only see a few buildings made of stone and wood with the paint peeling. As he walked closer, he saw a man similar to him; that is, a dead man walking. Perhaps that meant he was not as different as he thought? He reached up and hesitantly pulled his hood down, and waved. The man was resting near an odd stand that held… Sleeping giant bats? That had to be it. What an odd village! They were upside down, and as he watched, one stretched its wings, showing dark fur beneath. It opened an inquisitive green eye at him before returning to his nap.

((This place seems oddly familiar…)) He thought. As he pulled his eyes from the odd bat-bed, he noticed a huge graveyard. It had more surface area than all of the buildings combined. Something about it attracted him; he found himself standing before a grave before he even realized he was moving. The grave itself did not seem special; there were larger and smaller graves all throughout the cemetery. It was simply a wooden cross that had begun to fall apart. But as he read the name, he fell to his knees in mental agony so deep that it wrenched him from his body, leaving it to pass out.

_"She's dead." The blonde haired woman was standing over a bald priest in light brown robes, a hand on his shoulder. "She's dead. You can not heal the plagued and you know it. Leave her, before she infects you too."_

_"No. I will not. I will at least bury her." The priest said. "I will at least bury her to put her soul at rest. If I am plagued, so be it." he murmured. He stood; tears were streaming silently down his face. He carried the corpse up the hill, to where other like-minded people were burying their loved ones. A spare spade sat near a freshly dug grave; it seemed people were sharing here, as they had been sharing ever since they had been running. He picked it up and got to work. The woman was standing at the bottom of the hill, arms crossed, waiting for him with worry etched onto her face._

_As he finished, he walked down to her with sadness in his eyes and dirt on his hands._

_"How could you be so foolish?" she shouted at him, loudly enough for others nearby to hear. Her green eyes were filled with tears, but her eyebrows and mouth both knit into positions of anger._

_"How could you bear the thought that we had not had a burial for our own daughter?" He asked, just as loudly. A small number of men, walking past him either way or working on graves for members of their own, silently nodded._

_**"Get up, you wretched fool!"**_

He opened his eyes groggily; he was on his knees, his forehead resting on the dirt of his daughter's grave. He looked around for the source of the words. A man was standing above him with worry in his eyes, a dead hand outreached, about to grab his shoulder. He was clad in simple white robes, a large priest's staff in his hand. As soon as he spoke, it was obvious it was not his voice who had told him to wake.

"Are you OK? You've been on the ground, shaking and screaming for at least ten minutes now." He offered a ripped hand to help him up. "My name is Allister. I am a Shadow-Priest. May I ask what happened?" As he stood, he realized Allister had no eyes. The skin around his jaws had completely decayed away.

"…I… I'm not sure…" His body was sore. He looked at the grave. It was worn, and what he could read was not in a language he understood. "Could you please read this for me?"

The Shadow-Priest looked hesitant, as if not wanting to look away from him for fear he might fall over again, but finally glanced at the tombstone. "What's etched on here seems to have decayed away. I can only read a few words. 'Here lies... Emily… of Maya Alisia and…'" he read off. "That's all that is legible."

((Maya Alisia?... Was that my wife? Was Emily my daughter? Was any of that even real?)) He thought.

"Sir, I think you need to rest. You look dreadful. I could take you to a friend's house, if you would not mind? By the way, what is your name?" Allister asked, as he glanced at the man limping on both legs behind him.

"My name…?" He was about to say he didn't know… But he reconsidered. "I call myself Nevren Agol."

The Priest's eyeholes widened and he stopped moving for less than a second. He quickly recovered, but with a slightly nervous, twitchy pace, as if something was wrong. "W-what an… Original n-name!" he stuttered. Something about the way he spoke seemed forced, and slightly scared.

"Is there something wrong with it? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-" Nevren began, as he thought his new name was something terribly bad.

"No, it's just that… Those words… It's nothing." The Priest concluded shakily. The short walk to Allister's friends' house was over, as it was just outside the graveyard.

They quickly walked in; there was no door. "Alexandre, Andrea," he said, addressing two women who also had pieces of their bodies missing, "this is Nevren Agol." He spoke the name without a problem this time, as if he had gotten over it. But the women glanced up for a second, a short look that one would expect if a rabid dog had walked in. The one named Alexandre had short, green hair and wore dark-green leather with random brown patches here and there. Her shoulder-bones were visible as well as her knees and elbows. Andrea had a small bun of blonde hair. She was wearing light brown and green clothes that looked a bit more managed. Her bones were likewise visible. Nevren thought that if they weren't so dead, they would've looked quite good.

The two women both nodded, as one was working with a sewing needle on a half-done robe and the other pulled skins off of a string across the ceiling. "They work as merchants. She," he pointed to Alexandre, "sells leather armor, while Andrea here is a clothier." He glanced almost disapprovingly at Nevren's ripped, dirty robes. "Perhaps you could buy something from her…"

Nevren looked embarrassedly down at himself. "That might be difficult, seeing as how I don't have any money. I don't even think I have pockets." He admitted.

"Oh! Well… Never mind that for now." Allister said, looking slightly embarrassed himself at his mistake. "You just lie down on the bed and think about something good while you recuperate."

"…Think about something good? Don't you mean sleep?" he asked, as he lay down on the bed. Andrea glanced at the bed and Nevren guessed she would be washing the sheets and pillow-case after he left.

"Sleep? You can sleep? Wow, that's amazing!" he began in surprise. "I've only met a few undead who could actually still sleep!"

"…Undead? What do you mean? How is it possible to not sleep?" Nevren replied.

"Oh no. You've just awakened, haven't you?" He eyed Nevren questioningly. Nevren could do nothing more but look back, a look of deep confusion on his face. Allister sighed. "You are undead. You were stricken by the plague of the Lich King. Do you have any memories at all?" Nevren had opened his mouth to say yes when something inside him advised against it. He shook his head. Allister sighed again.

"The plague is a way for the Lich King to add to his army. It kills anything and everything it encounters, taking its mind, as well as free-will. It is nothing more than a body to be used as wanted by the Lich King. However, a woman, named Sylvanas Windrunner, was strong enough to break free of this binding, a process we call awakening. She was strong enough to help awaken thousands of others, as well. She became the leader of these creatures. She unified them as the Undead. They may have been elves, humans, orcs, trolls, dwarves, gnomes, or anything before… But now they were Undead. If she hadn't done that, we would probably have a hundred factions of Undead running around, fighting each other…" Allister closed his eye sockets and sat in one of the many chairs in the house. There was a fire cracking and popping and a well-taken-care-of wreath hung above the fireplace. "This woman took the Undead to a city under the ground, which is now, rather simply, named the Undercity. It was once known as Lordaeron, before the plague decimated its people. Now, however, it is ours." Allister let out a third deep breath. "Rest now. It may be difficult to keep still for so long, but I guarantee you that once you get used to it, it's not so bad to be without sleep. You have much more time to think!" he finished, thoughtfully.

Nevren, whose eyes were getting heavy, had turned over after he had finished talking. ((I'm an Undead? How long have I been dead? I'm too tired to think about all of this now.)) He closed his eyes and contemplated that he was glad his eyelids hadn't fallen off before drifting into a deep, dreamless sleep.


	3. The invitation

I do not own World of Warcraft. I do own the original characters in this story.

-.-

"Nevren?" An inquisitive voice asked. He grunted. "Nevren? You've been lying there for three days now, Nevren. Did you actually sleep?" The voice suddenly filled with a child-like curiosity. Nevren nodded groggily as he sat up. ((Three days? I feel as if I've barely slept three minutes.)) Outside, it was raining.

Allister's voice suddenly turned serious. "Nevren, you got a letter saying that you were invited to join Bene Vires." The Shadow-Priest looked shocked, almost jealous. "Not that I wish to meddle, Nevren, but it would probably be within your best wishes to accept. This guild… It only allows the best of the best. They choose the strongest from all over the world, from every race and class. How they managed to not only find you, but get a message to you in a single day from their base in Orgrimmar is a testament to their abilities."

Nevren blinked and his eyebrows knitted. ((Why am I being chosen to join the best guild in the world? I have no powers! I probably couldn't kill a cat if I tried my hardest!)) "Are you sure it's not a mistake?..." He began, but the Priest was already handing him the letter.

_Dear Nevren, you have been invited to join Bene Vires. We have recognized your talents. Please meet us in Orgrimmar in ten days time; we will be holding a small meeting for all who have been invited. We hope to see you here._

_Signed by the Guild's fourth seat Warlock, Anthony Valdega._

He didn't know what to say. "I can't accept this," he began, "I have no powers whatsoever, never mind what this letter says."

Alexandre, who had been listening, spoke up. "Boy, are you kidding? Men have killed; men still kill, actually, in their dreams of joining this Guild. I've seen people train so hard that they die, praying and praying for one of those small invitations. They don't let random riff-raff in. If you've been invited, I doubt there would be one person on Azeroth who wouldn't trade positions with you in an instant."

Nevren blinked. He had never heard her speak. "Well… If you think I should-"

"Yes, we do." Andrea and Alexandre cut him off.

Allister had been staring at him the whole time, muttering to himself. "First you say your name is Nevren Agol, and then you get invited to Bene Vires! You are full of surprises. Oh!" He looked down and stuck his hands into a hidden pocket. "They sent you this pouch. It has more money in it than I've probably ever had in my whole life… And they sent it to you to be used as travel fare." He smiled at Nevren. "Here."

Nevren opened it; there were ten gold pieces inside. "This is a lot of money, huh? Will I need this much to get to Orgrimmar?" Nevren said, thinking of giving Allister some.

"Probably not, but keep it anyway. Don't give it to me, I sure couldn't use it. I have a very simple life here, no need." He shrugged as Nevren looked at him curiously. "Shadow-Priests are masters of the mind. We can control it as we wish, placate it, make it angry… Fill it with agony…" he explained. As Nevren's eyes opened wider, he said "But it was not me that pained you in the graveyard. In fact, it took a fair bit of mana to calm you from that."

"Oh…What's mana?" He asked. Allister facepalmed. Nevren turned to Andrea and Alexandre, giving each a gold piece. "For having such hospitality towards me, I thank you." He bowed, and looked around at Allister. He was pulling another out of the pouch when Allister shook his head.

"I told you already, I don't need money. I couldn't use it for anything. I am but a simple Shadow-Priest. Besides, I'm sure you'll want to have a little bit of spending money once you reach Orgrimmar, the Horde trading capital of the world!"

As Allister said this, Nevren realized something. He had no idea how to get there, and even less of an idea what the Horde was. He told Allister this and he sighed.

"The Horde is a faction of five races: the nomadic and proud Tauren, the cunning Darkspear Trolls, the powerful Orcs, us crafty Undead, and, recently, the furtive yet noble Blood Elves. The Trolls and Orcs base themselves in Orgrimmar. We live in the Undercity, as you know. The Tauren live on a mesa called Thunder Bluff and the Blood Elves live in a city only a few days' journey north from here; Silvermoon City.

"We are at constant war with the Alliance, made up of the ancient Night Elves, the metal-loving Dwarves, those inquisitive Gnomes, the Humans, and some new race. I don't know much about them.

"How to get to Orgrimmar, you said? Hmm… Well, you remember the man in front of the village? You couldn't have missed him, with the bats? His name is Karos Ravok. Pay him for a flight to the Undercity, which should only take a small part of a day." At this Nevren's eyes filled with wonder at the thought of flying upon one of those giant bats. "From there," Allister continued before Nevren could get lost in a day-dream, "take the zeppelin to Orgrimmar. The goblins there may attempt to trick you into paying them, but it is a method of travel for all to enjoy, so pay them nothing. That trip should only take about four or five days, from what I've heard of people traveling through. Once you reach Orgrimmar you may wish to find an inn to rest while you wait for the meeting to begin. I doubt you won't be all over the city, looking at everything it has to offer…"

"So, I should have about four days there?" Nevren asked, thinking what six days of flight would be like.

"Well, actually…" Allister rubbed the back of his neck. "This letter arrived a day after you went to sleep. We figured you wouldn't be asleep for much longer so we didn't wake you, but the hours just grew longer and longer… So you have about eight days to get there now."

"That's not so bad. Eight days to take a six day trip leaves me with two free days." Nevren was already fantasizing about a few detours.

"Yes, but just be sure you don't get side-tracked on the way." At this, his eye sockets pointed towards Nevren. "I mean this, Nevren. Do not waste time at the Undercity; you will surely be able to return a later day. There are people there who will rob you blind of your money, and possibly life."

"All right, all right! I won't. When should I leave, though?" He added.

"Well, I suppose right now. There's no reason to stay here much longer, other than drawn-out goodbyes. Most would have left the second they saw the invitation. Have a great journey!" Allister said, and the two women grunted. "Don't forget about us at the Sepulcher!" He shouted as Nevren walked out the door.

((The Sepulcher? I suppose that is the name of this village. I can't help but think that I was sent off rather quickly… I will definitely return here one day, though, when I want to find out more about my past life.)) He promised himself.

He reached the man with the bats quickly. "I don't suppose you have change for a gold piece?..." Nevren said, showing it to Karos.

"Yes, I do, but why pay gold for a trip that costs a mere than ten copper?" He said, reaching into a back pocket.

"It's all I have, sorry…" Nevren said, eyeing Karos' purple goggles, as well as the purple stripe that ran across his ripped pants. Karos had counted out ninety silver coins, and was working on ninety bronze. He was an extremely fast counter, Nevren thought.

"Here ya' go. Just hop on the bat, they'll fly straight to the Undercity." Nevren climbed awkwardly onto a bat that had gotten down for him. "Make sure to put your feet in the holds and don't let go!" Karos shouted, but Nevren was already in the air. He had decided he didn't like flying.

-.-

Translations:

Nevren Agol: To be announced. (Do you REALLY want this spoiler?)

Bene Vires: Best Strength, latin.

-.-

Omake:

"So, Allister, you say you can get in peoples minds and such?"

"Definitely."

"So… Have you ever got into Alexandre's and Andrea's mind and…"

"And? And what?"

"You know…"

"Oh for god sakes, boy! I'm a Priest! A Shadow-Priest, but still a Priest!"

Nevren walks away. ((Suppose he's into the boys, then…)) he thought to himself.

"I HEARD THAT!"


	4. The Undercity

I do not own World of Warcraft. I do own the original characters in this story.

-.-

Nevren's bat landed lightly. Nevren, however, wasn't feeling quite as steady. He sat on the creature's back for a few moments before it impatiently leaned on its side, dropping him. Nevren rolled onto his back to get his bearings.

Opening his eyes, he saw an old gray stone ceiling far above him. An undead man was looking down at him with a grin. "Not a flier, eh?" he asked, offering a gloved hand to pull him up. "Can't stay there, though! Bat might land on ya!" Nevren stood up so fast he got dizzy; being on top of one was scary enough, but to be under one, with its claws and teeth?

"My name's Garrett. I'm the flightmaster o' the Undercity. Looks like ya've never been here, huh? Got anywhere ya need directions to?"

"Well, yes, actually…" Nevren replied, still slightly dazed. "How do I get to the zeppelin?"

"Hah! You'll be havin' some fun on that!" Garrett chuckled, watching the bat Nevren had come on fly away with a new rider. "Well, just go down that hallway down there," he pointed, "take the elevator upstairs, go up the ramp, and follow the path out of the city."

"All right… Er, thanks." Nevren said. ((He said that too fast! Where do I go? This hallway, he said… Yeah. And what did he mean, I'll have fun on that?)) His mind drifted.

As he got to the hallway entrance, he realized something below him was casting an odd green glow. He turned and looked down; some green, viscous fluid was flowing slowly through tunnels all around the bottom of the city.

Below him, two olive skinned creatures were likewise looking at it. One was looking over the other's shoulder, and both were pinching their noses. Suddenly, the one in back pushed the other in with huge, muscled arms. Roaring as he fell, he landed with a subdued "splulunk!" He came up gagging a few seconds later. "I'M GONNA KILL-WAAGH! IT GOT IN MY MOUTH!" he shouted, swimming to a staircase leading out of the river.

Chuckling, Nevren, looked around. The city was full of people, trading, talking, resting against a wall here and there. A huge, fur-covered man with a snout walked by, his hooves clacking against the stone, and leaned his head to one side to prevent a long black horn from hitting Nevren. ((Oh! Oh! That's one of those, what were they? Tauren!)) he was proud he had remembered. ((Yeah, and those two down there must've been Orcs.)) He nodded to himself. ((That blue guy over there is a Troll!)) He looked around to see if there were any Blood Elves, but he saw nothing new.

Turning around, he headed down the hallway Garrett pointed out. Turning a corner, the first thing he saw was a thick green mist. The same colour as the river he had just seen. The next thing he noticed was a large metal hook hanging from chains to the floor. Holding the chain was a true beast; it looked like a failed Frankenstein, its stomach was hanging out across its wide, sloppily stitched belly. One eye was bulging out, and it must have been at least ten feet. ((That looks disgusting! And look, there's another one there! Does someone MAKE these things?)) Nevren thought, edging up to one of the towering creatures. "This… is the elevator, right?" he asked. ((Can these things even talk?)) The guard just looked down at him with a gaping mouth. He wasn't sure what he was going to do when a door behind the two of them opened. Shaking his head, he walked through.

The elevator started moving upwards with so much speed that Nevren fell to his knees. Realizing what happened, he tried to stand up, only for the elevator to suddenly stop. He flew a few feet into the air, and landed spread-eagle. "Guhh..." he uttered. A deep laugh floated to his ears from above him. He looked up; a man in a vivid blue robe was staring down at him. Nevren stood up, embarrassed, and noted his green eyes and long hair. Walking by, he thought ((That must be a blood elf.)), seeing the large ears poking out. ((Even when he's laughing he looks mad.))

Coming out of the stairway, he saw a tombstone in the middle of a circular room, doors all around. Everyone else coming up seemed perfectly balanced; they must've been used to it by now. A Tauren, however, was leaning on her staff, clutching her stomach and making retching noises.

He had no trouble finding the hallway that led out of the elevator labyrinth, as he was more or less trying to follow and blend into the crowd. Walking into a circular room, however, he felt a chill; his eyes were drawn to a throne on a platform. Something about it seemed eerie. The people he had been following seemed nervous and increased their pace. A few Undead were standing at the feet of the throne, praying silently. Nevren thought he heard whispers in the forced silence. "…Arthas…" ((This room… Something about it…)) Remembering Allister had told him not to sightsee, he reluctantly followed the stream of people going out. He noticed that no one was talking; as he left the room, the hidden whispering ended.

Outside, dead grass appeared gloom under a cloudy sky. "I sure wouldn't want to live here…" Nevren mumbled. A Troll next to him laughed.

"Nah, me neither mon. Too mucha' dat green goop for me!" He looked down as they crossed a bridge. Nevren smiled, and waved to the Troll, whose left tusk was missing, as he turned and headed up some stairs. As he reached the gates of the city, he realized he didn't know where he was supposed to be going. The Blood Elf from the elevator rode by on some kind of giant, vibrant bird. "Uhm, hey! How do I get to the zeppelin from here?" Nevren asked him. The Blood Elf simply looked down at him and started riding away.

((Am I supposed to follow, or…?)) Nevren wondered. He decided to follow him, anyway. Standing here wasn't doing much. Outside of the city, the Blood Elf sat on his mount, pointing at a tower. He sighed and shook his head. "There." He said. Nevren tried to thank him, but he was already riding to it. ((Wait… Why do they need a tower for zeppelins?)) "You'll be havin' fun on that!" Nevren remembered. ((I'm not liking this… Not more bats?))

He walked up to the tower with apprehension. He didn't see any bats at the top… But he still didn't trust it. Inside, he saw Undead with masks and blades. ((These guys must be guards.)) He started climbing stairs to the top of the tower. A few minutes later, he was still climbing. ((Is all of this really necessary?)) he thought, panting. ((Why does the tower have to be so high?))

Emerging from the stairway, he bent over, one hand leaning on his staff, the other resting on his knee. ((Finally!)) he thought, lightheaded. Looking up, he saw a small green person. ((That doesn't look like an elf…Oh! Goblins!)) "Uhm, can I ask where the zeppelin to Orgrimmar is?" he was wondering if that elf hadn't played a trick on him…

"Ya got good timing. It should be here soon! Probably just a few more minutes." the Goblin squealed.

"Oh, thanks." ((That voice could get annoying, quickly. I hope they don't all sound like this. Now I gotta catch my breath.))

The elf sat precariously on the end of the dock, looking out over the woods. It looked like a very dark place.

Now Nevren was starting to get worried. A dock this big would mean a huge bat. Bats couldn't even get that big, could they? He had a wild fantasy about trying to hold on to a bat and his stomach while looking down over a raging ocean, with singing goblins and a laughing elf behind him.

Someone bumped into him, waking him from his daydream. He looked up to see an Orc walking past him to a… He froze; a giant balloon was attached to something kind of like a boat. He exhaled a sigh of relief, and started walking towards it. ((Wow, all these people passed me? I must've been on some daydream.))

As he was about to step onto the zeppelin, he got a glimpse of the ground through a crack in the dock. It was a lot farther down from this angle. His foot paused over the zeppelin and the Goblin next to him eyed him suspiciously for a second, then grinned a knowing grin. "You're not scared, are ya?" He laughed.

Nevren barely heard him. ((What if this thing goes down? I'd die!... But I have to go to Orgrimmar. Maybe I should go back to the Undercity, and see if there's any other way?)) He stood there in indecision. A voice rang out through the zeppelin; "Our flight to Orgrimmar has begun." It slowly started inching forward. The Goblin was looking at Nevren, and that Blood Elf was standing on the deck, glancing sideways at him. He shook his head and began to pull his foot back, and then he forgot everything as he lost consciousness.

_**"Childish fool! Fear and indecision!"**_

_A man sat on a weathered chair next to a fireplace, conversing with his wife as she braided a young daughter's hair into a ponytail._

_"Well, I think-" she began, but was cut off by knocking on the door._

_"I'll answer that." the man said, standing up. At the door was a local farmer, Mr. Wayins._

_"Gee, I'm sorry to bother you at this time of night, but my son's really sick. He's coughin' up a storm at home, we don't know what's gotten into 'im. We were hopin' you could heal 'im." He explained. The priest nodded, grabbing his coat. Mr. Wayins was pretty pale, himself…_


	5. Danger above

Nevren woke up, sitting against a wall. He rubbed his eyes. He was in a room full of people sitting around at tables, talking, arm-wrestling, gambling. He must've been on the lower deck of the zeppelin. No one seemed to notice as he got up, rubbing his eyes, yawning. He could feel the zeppelin was moving, but it was a smooth ride. He liked it, and went upstairs to see the view.

There were only a few people on the top deck. It looked like the people who didn't want to deal with others were up here. The sun was just setting. Walking over to the edge, he held onto a rope and carefully looked over the edge. As far as he could see, in every direction, there was nothing but water. He thought he saw something under the water. It was nothing but a huge patch of darker water, larger than the zeppelin. A wave crashed over it, though, and he didn't get a second chance to look at it.

Looking around, he saw a goblin manning a steering wheel. Walking up to him, he asked "How long have we been flying?"

"Another annoying, impatient…" he muttered, rolling his eyes. "We've been flying for a day. That means you," he poked Nevren in the chest, "have to wait for four days. Maybe longer, if those clouds ahead are a storm." His goblin voice squealed.

Nevren looked ahead. He didn't see any clouds, only a glowing sun over an orange ocean. He decided not to ask about it, anyway. "All right…" ((Four days to wait…)) He thought, walking away. He walked back over to the side of the zeppelin. Watching the ocean zoom by, he zoned out, thinking about what this guild was going to be like.

Blinking, he came back to reality. The sun had long since fallen. A moon reflected off of the ocean, but it was broken and curled by the waves. Nevren decided to go back downstairs.

It was still as active as ever, maybe even more so in the dead of the night. It was loud; upstairs he hadn't heard anything, but coming down, he was bombarded with boisterous laughs, shouts, beers slamming down on tables. Two trolls performed in a corner of the room, one playing a flute while the other danced seductively, as watchers threw coins at their feet.

Nevren decided to sit down at a table, next to a Tauren. Across from him sat an Orc, and a Troll who was missing his left tusk. "Wassup, mon?" The Troll asked him, looking over a hand of cards, the other hand guarding a rather handsome pile of silver and bronze coins.

Nevren looked at him for a second, then realized: "We met on the bridge out of the Undercity!"

The Troll started to nod, until the Tauren threw his cards down with a triumphant smile on his face. "HA! I finally won one!" The Orc narrowed his eyes, then spread his hand on the table. "Nope." Moving his hands around the pot to take his winnings, the Troll gently put a hand on his shoulder: "Not yet, mon. Take a look at dis!" He put his hand in front of the Orc's nose. He pulled his head back to see the cards, then leaned in closer with his eyes wide. Nevren thought he looked like a chicken pecking feed. The Troll, flourishing his hand onto the table, removed the Orc's hands and took the coins to his stack. The Orc looked like he was about to blow a vein. Nevren saw he didn't have any money left on the table; he must've gone all in on the last hand. "I tink I'mma go trade dis in for some golds…" The Troll said, raising an eyebrow, swiping his money into a bag and standing. "Ya wanna come, Undead?" Nevren got up, walking after him and looking back. The Tauren still had a sizeable amount of money, and he was laughing at the Orc.

"Da Orc back dere, he was cheatin'. Had cards up 'is bracers. If he was playin' someone dumb, he mighta won! But against me?" The Troll laughed, sliding cards out from under his own sleeve, "Neva! I don't think I told ya my name, though? I'm Tinte. How 'bout you?" He looked at Nevren.

"I'm-" he paused, remembering Allister's reaction. "I'm Nev." He nodded.

Walking up to an Goblin bartender, Tinte spilled the sack on the counter. "Lemme get dis in gold, and uh, I'll take a tango drink, too." Sitting on a stool, he spun around and looked at the raucous room as Nevren sat next to him. "Dis sure is a crazy zeppelin ride. Too many rogues on one trip, I'm thinkin'." He pointed at a fellow Troll. "Dat one just swiped dat Blood Elf's wallet. Damn Elf deserves it, my 'pinion." Nevren smiled. It was the one from the elevator. Turning back around, the Troll grabbed two gold pieces and a few leftover silvers. Taking a sip of his drink, he asked Nevren, "So why you goin' to Orgrimmar?"

Nevren shrugged, and said "I got invited to Bene Vires." The Troll nearly fell over off his chair. Nevren caught his mug before it fell on him. "WHAT?" The Troll pointed at him with wide eyes of shock. "Ya jokin' right?" Nevren shook his head, and looked at the bartender, whose mouth hung open. Pulling out the invite, he handed it to the Troll. "I don' believe it!" The Troll clapped his arm around Nevren. "We got a celebrity on da zep!" He said to the bartender. Sliding her the letter, she read it quickly. The more she read, the farther her eyebrow went. Finally, she smiled, and laughed, handing Nevren the invite. "That's worthy of a free drink!"

"Uh, no thanks, sorry-" she cut him off.

"Nonsense! Drink this!" the Goblin chirped, sliding him the drink as she spoke.

"He don't have to if he don't want to!" Tinte called, pulling the drink over to himself. "I can't see a problem wit' dat!" Nevren laughed at him; he had a mug in each hand and the trademark 'I'm getting drunk tonight' grin.

The two performing Trolls took seats next to Tinte and Nevren, smiles on their faces. "I was just walking by… Did I hear you were in Bene Vires?" the one next to Nevren asked. He nodded after a second; ((They must be taking a break.)) Looking back at Tinte, he saw that he was talking with the other one. "My name's Zee, and she's Dash… But don't worry about her." She kept her eyes on Nevren, her words rolling together. They chatted for a short bit, her interest showing through with every exchange. "Here, follow me back to my room… I want to show you something."

Nevren was apprehensive, but he didn't show it. She WAS attractive after all… Maybe this Bene Vires thing had some perks? "All right, lead the way." She walked down a second set of stairs into the bedrooms. The sound from above died out, even though there was no door. Nevren thought it must've been some kind of enchantment. "It's just at the end of the hall here." She cooed, looking back at him. Nevren noticed she didn't talk like most Trolls; she sounded more like a cultured Blood Elf.

Opening the door, she gestured for Nevren to go ahead. He went in. Looking around, he would have said it was a simple room with a bed and a wardrobe, if it weren't for the numerous sacks of money on top of the wardrobe. Pulling another sack that had been tied to her waist, she set it down. It jingled.

"What did you want to show me?" Nevren asked her.

"…Nothing. You're going to give me all of the money you have. Right now."

"And if I don't?" Nevren knew that without the money, he wouldn't be making it to Orgrimmar at all.

She pulled a knife from her sleeve and stated "If you don't, I'll kill you and take it." She began advancing towards him. Nevren backed up, but tripped over the bed. She was right over him, knife on his neck, digging into his pockets, when his vision went dark.

_**"YOU WOULD LET YOURSELF DIE TO THIS WHORE?"**_

His vision flashed back in slightly, but in his ears he only heard a dull ring. The Troll was shaking on the floor, eyes rolled back into her head, her mouth foaming. It looked like she was having a seizure. His vision faded again as he saw Tinte bust open the door and freeze, staring at him.

_**"You are a mere child."**_

-.-

Omake:

Tinte lowered his shades, looking to his left and right. The club was jumpin'. He had on the freshest new tier six armor. A Blood Elf walked up to him and asked him to dance. He smacked her in the face. "I don't roll wit' no damn Elves." He said. The crowd all stopped and roared in agreement. He was walking over to buy this sexy little Troll at the bar a drink…

"Nnn, why'd I have ta wake up? Da's my favorite dream…" Tinte rolled over in bed.


End file.
